


Low Rising

by saltheartedbarmaid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, JUST KISS ALREADY, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, battle makes them horny but like with feelings, feelings are like hard and stuff, no beta we die like Glenn, they're totally gonna do it just wait
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:02:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltheartedbarmaid/pseuds/saltheartedbarmaid
Summary: “You’re an ass,” Felix curses, and Sylvain doesn’t disagree. “I was going to see if you were all right, but I think I’ll kill you instead.” He reaches for the dagger that’s always at his hip.“Whoa, take it easy,” Sylvain sits up in his bed. “C’mon, can’t a man joke with his best friend?”“Best friend?” Felix rests his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “Do you honestly think that we’re still best friends?”It surprises Sylvain how much Felix’s words sting. “You don’t?” he replies, and his voice sounds wounded.Felix lets his silence speak for him.*****It takes the loss of his brother to realize his fiercely loyal best friend is actually the love of Sylvain's life.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! Thank you for reading what is my first ever (!!) fic. I just love these two dumbasses so much. This fic is essentially a series of support conversations that should have happened in fe3h. Title is the name of a song by The Swell Season.

Felix hasn’t seen Sylvain all day. Not like he hasn’t been looking. During dinner, his eyes scan the faces in the dining hall. Once, the sight of red hair makes his heart skip a beat, but when the person turns around, it’s only Ferdinand, who, much to Felix’s dismay, interprets the look on his face as an invitation to join him for a meal. Later, at the training ground, once his arms begin to ache so badly he can barely hold up his sword, he heads back toward the dormitories, to find that the door at the end of the hall has been left just slightly ajar.

With a deep breath, Felix raises a hand to knock, then changes his mind and pushes the door open. He finds Sylvain seated on his bed, feet on the ground, with the Lance of Ruin pulsating eerily in his lap. He is staring at the Lance, turning it over in his hands absently. Felix quietly clears his throat, and Sylvain finally looks up at him. His warm brown eyes are bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. Felix had never seen him look so weary, and the sight makes him want to weep.

“Sylvain-” Felix starts.

Sylvain smiles weakly at him. “Yeah, sure. Come on in.”

“I wanted to check-” Felix starts again.

“I’m fine,” Sylvain says. “Really. I just needed to-”

“You look like shit,” Felix scolds him. “Have you even slept?”

“Not since...not since Conand Tower.” Sylvain frowns. “Why are you here anyway, just to insult me?”

Felix huffs. “No. I just thought that if I don’t look after you, no one will.”

Sylvain looks back down at the Lance. “I can’t really believe it,” he says quietly. “After everything, everything he put me through, I shouldn’t mourn him. And yet -”

“It was an unfair way to go,” Felix says.

Sylvain nods. “I knew it was hard for him, always was. I never thought...I never could have even imagined…” He trails off.

Felix clears his throat. “I’m...sorry.” He wants to touch Sylvain so badly, to comfort him somehow. Instead, instead he jams both of his hands into his pockets so that they don’t betray him.

Sylvain continues. “I’ve been thinking - more than usual - about what would have happened if I had been the one born without a Crest. About how my life might have been different. Would I have grown up happy? Would my parents have disowned me like they did Miklan? Would I have met the same fate as he did?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Felix replies. Sylvain ignores him.

“My life could have been really different, Felix. I’ve always known that. And sometimes...sometimes I even wish for that. A life without this Crest, without this..._expectation_.” Sylvain sighs deeply.

Felix stays quiet. He’s never heard Sylvain talk this openly about his Crest before. Maybe to Mercedes, or Dorothea, but never to him. It feels like a privilege, but at the same time, it is tearing at his chest.

“There’s one thing I’m sure of, though,” Sylvain says. “If my circumstances had been different, I know that I would have-” His eyes meet Felix’s. “I would have still had you.”

Felix swallows. “What are you talking about?”

“We would have still been friends, because you wouldn’t have cared if I had a Crest or not. And even if I had gotten my hands on this weapon, right here, and it corrupted me, had transformed me into one of those...Black Beasts. If I ended up killing everyone I loved. You would have been right by my side through it all. Wouldn’t you, Felix?” Sylvain places the Lance on the ground, and stands to face Felix, regarding him carefully.

A palpable silence fills the air, and lingers like smoke.

“I thought so,” Sylvain says, quietly. 

For once, Felix doesn’t have a cutting remark, a sarcastic deflection. It’s the truth, and it makes him feel exposed, vulnerable. So he tries to change the subject.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

Sylvain shakes his head. “Well, come with me to the dining hall, then. There might be something left over from dinner.”

Sylvain smiles up at him. “See? You’re always looking out for me, aren’t you?”

Felix scoffs. “Well, if you die from hunger, then our class will be down a body on the battlefield, and I already cover for you enough as it is. Now come on.”

He takes a few steps towards Sylvain and holds out his hand. Sylvain takes it, and Felix is shocked by how soft it feels in his, so calloused and rough from all of those hours at the training grounds. They both stand there for a moment, hands clasped together, and Felix can feel his heart beating in his throat.

Suddenly, there is the sound of footsteps behind them. Felix whirls around to see Dimitri and the Professor standing in the doorway, looking concerned.

“I am sorry, I uh - I hope I am not interrupting,” Dimitri clears his throat.

Felix realizes he is still holding on to Sylvain’s hand, and lets go of it with a start.

“What is it, Professor?” Sylvain asks.

“It’s Flayn. She’s gone missing,” Byleth says, in her composed manner.

Felix and Sylvain exchange looks.

“We’ll help you search,” Sylvain says, stifling a yawn.

Dimitri looks concerned. “No, Sylvain, there is much on your mind right now. I believe you should think about getting some rest.”

“We have looked everywhere, rest assured.” Byleth says. “We just wanted to let you know, in case you had any ideas about where she might be.”

“Perhaps she eloped,” Sylvain quips. Felix glares at him.

Dimitri opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by the Professor.

“I’ll let you think about it,” Byleth says in a measured tone that might express disapproval, then again, might not.. “Rest assured, we will do everything in our power to find her as soon as possible.”

Felix nods, and just as suddenly as they arrived, the two are gone. He turns back to Sylvain with an exasperated look on his face.

“Of all the ridiculous things-” he starts.

“Relax. I was just trying to make you smile,” Sylvain says, with a wink.

Felix does relax, because as uncouth as he’s acting, it’s more like the old Sylvain. A Sylvain he doesn’t need to worry about.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Felix turns on his heel and walks out of the room, knowing that Sylvain will be right behind him.

_That night, Felix dreams of a giant, lumbering beast, holding Flayn in its talons. Felix is there as well, sword in his hands, shouting at the beast to let the girl go. With a swing of its mighty tail, the beast launches Felix into the air, and he plummets to the ground. As he struggles to get back on his feet, the beast approaches him and gives him a pleading look, its eyes weary. _

_“Please, end this suffering,” the beast begs. _

_With a powerful scream, Felix stands, raises his sword, and with one deft movement, plunges it through the beast’s belly. The beast staggers and falls to the stony ground, letting go of Flayn, who tumbles head over feet and lands in a pile of rubble. Felix scrambles over, not to Flayn, but to the beast, who is prostrate, breathing raggedly. _

_The beast raises its head, and it is Sylvain’s face looking back at him. _

_Dream-Felix lets out a wail that originates somewhere deep in his chest. Tears cut through the blood that stains his cheeks. _

_“Sylvain-” he pleads, reaching for the human-beast. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t die.” _

_The creature with Sylvain’s face just smiles, peacefully . “Felix. I knew it would be you. I’ve always been able to count on you.” He closes his eyes. “Thank you.” _

The beast dies, and the real Felix wakes with a start, covered in sweat, his cheeks wet, and feeling as though he were the one stabbed through the belly. He does not sleep any more that night.

* * *

* * *

Over the coming weeks, everyone is preoccupied with Flayn’s disappearance, and trying to find out who has taken her. Accusations are hurled about, amongst the professors, the knights, and even the students. Byleth herself, despite her efforts to keep the peace, has to step in and prevent Caspar from hauling off and punching Lorenz in the middle of the dining hall over a comment from the latter regarding “good breeding.”

Around mid-moon, realizing the students are in desperate need of a distraction, Byleth arranges a mock battle with some of the Knights of Seiros. The day of the battle is a crisp and sunny day, and the Blue Lions are almost jovial as they head out to the field. Felix, as always, is bragging about how many knights he plans to fell, Ashe is feeling grateful for the opportunity to learn from such experienced fighters, and Annette and Ingrid are just looking forward to rewarding themselves with sweets later.

As the battle is about to begin, Byleth deploys Felix and Dimitri to the front lines, followed by Dedue, Ashe, and Sylvain. She keeps Ingrid, Mercedes, and Annette in the rear, and positions herself directly in the middle of her students. Other than that, she doesn’t need to give much more direction. After only a few moons of being their teacher, Byleth has learned where her students’ strengths and weaknesses lie, and how they best compliment one another.

Especially Sylvain and Felix. Off the battlefield, Sylvain acts careless, uninterested in training or studying. With a lance in his hand, however, he is quick to dodge and slash, somehow managing to find the weakest point on his opponent and taking them down almost effortlessly. The drawback is that he is only able to focus on one adversary at a time, whereas Felix seems to have eyes not only in the back of his head, but all over, and can spot an approaching enemy before they’ve even had time to plan their attack. Where Sylvain has strength, Felix has awareness and speed, and together, they are formidable.

Except for today. Sylvain has been distracted, and not by women, for a change. Byleth had hoped putting him on the battlefield would help him focus, but he is attacking at only a fraction of his usual might, and the Knights are landing blow after blow on him.

“Sylvain!” Felix yells, as he uses a Wrath Strike to take out the knees of the sword-wielding knight rushing at him. “What are you _doing_?! Pull yourself together before you get seriously hurt!”

“I’m trying-” Sylvain grunts as he dodges an axe blow that comes perilously close to his head. “These knights aren’t taking it easy on us!” He strikes with his lance, hitting the knight square in the chest and toppling them over.

Felix rushes to fill the space where the knight previously stood, standing with his back to Sylvain and scanning the field for incoming foes. “And the real enemies? The ones who kidnapped Flayn? Will they go easy on us?” he spits.

“It’s a mock battle, Felix. No one’s going to die. You need to relax,” Sylvain turns to face him, just as another knight emerges from the bushes behind him and strikes Sylvain right between the shoulders. He crumples to the ground and doesn’t move.

“Sylvain!” Felix howls, brandishing his sword. “Goddammit, _Sylvain!_” He strikes again and again, until the knight has gone down. Then, with one hand, he deftly hoists Sylvain up over his shoulder and takes off across the field, slashing haphazardly with his sword hand as he does so. Byleth notices, and sprints after them, yelling for Mercedes to follow.

Felix comes to a halt beneath a large oak tree and gently sets Sylvain down, fumbling to remove his chest armor. He is in such a panic that he doesn’t notice Sylvain slowly stirring and his eyes fluttering open, and it isn’t until he begins to cough violently that Felix finally stops what he’s doing and inhales sharply.

“Sylvain, you’re...are you okay?” he gasps.

Sylvain groans in response.

“Are you hurt? Sylvain...Mercedes, _where are you_, damn it!”

As if on cue, Mercedes appears behind Felix and readies a Healing spell. Sylvain’s eyes widen and he sputters out a protest.

“No, no, ‘m good,” he says. “Just...knocked the wind out of me, ‘s’all.”

“Are you sure, Sylvain?” Mercedes asks gently. “That looked like a really bad hit!”

Sylvain coughs again, and Felix reaches out to lift his head from the ground. “Can we get some water, please?” he asks, with desperation at the edges of his voice.

Byleth has been standing off to the side, and she steps forward, handing Felix a small canteen. He looks at her with such gratitude, she can’t help but smile a little. Felix uncaps the canteen and lifts it gently to Sylvain’s lips, and Sylvain takes a few small sips and lets out a breath.

“You’re okay, Sylvain,” Byleth says. “I saw the whole thing, and I plan to speak with that particular knight about his tactics.”

“No, please,” Sylvain says. “It’s my fault, I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings.”

Felix’s expression shifts from concern to annoyance almost immediately. “No, you weren’t, you fool,” he scolds. “Were that a real battle, you would be dead right now.”

“Lucky I had you to save me,” Sylvain quips.

Felix lets forth a string of expletives as he gets to his feet, and without another word, turns and leaves the field.

Byleth shoots Sylvain a look, and for once, there is a hint of remorse on his face.

“I’ll go,” Byleth says. “Mercedes, please escort Sylvain to the infirmary.”

“Professor, please, I don’t-” Sylvain starts, but the Professor shakes her head firmly.

“Not an option,” she says, and turns on her heel. She signals to the knights that the battle has concluded, and calls to Dimitri to round up the rest of the Lions. With that, she hurries after Felix. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix gets his ass handed to him by one of his oldest friends. Or, how the women of Garreg Mach are infinitely smarter than the men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has stopped by and left kudos! This is my first ever fic and it's really been a labor of love writing it. I still don't know how it ends so if you have any suggestions please leave me a note. Please enjoy these horrible boys having a hard time with feelings.

Following the mock battle, it had been Felix’s intention to go to the Training Grounds and reduce one - or more - of the dummies inside to a pile of straw. Instead, Byleth manages to catch up with him before he even gets inside the grounds of the monastery.

“Why did you follow me?” he demands, not turning to face her. “Go away.”

He continues to walk away, but then a thought stops him in his tracks and he whirls around to face her.

“Actually, while you’re here, I need to know why you allowed that fool to almost get killed today,” he says, putting a hand on his hip. 

Byleth regards him. “Why do you blame me?”

Felix frowns. “Because you’re our leader,” he says. “Obviously.”

Byleth nods. “You’re interested in tactics, aren’t you?”

“What does that have to do with this?” Felix asks, annoyed.

“Well, part of tactics is knowing where to position your units so they’re the most effective, right?” Byleth says, ever the professor.

“Right,” Felix agrees.

“It’s also knowing which of your units best compliment one another on the battlefield,” Byleth continues. “A unit with lower defense near a healer, and so on.”

She watches Felix’s face to see if he is following. He looks thoughtful for a few moments.

“Do you mean to say that you placed Sylvain and I together on purpose today?” he asks.

Byleth nods again. “I do so often, as a matter of fact. Have you not noticed?”

Felix had not, but as he thinks about it now, he remembers. The first mock battle between the houses, when he had knocked poor Lindhardt to the ground as the mage readied a spell that was aimed toward Sylvain. Their first real battle as a class, when he cut a bandit’s legs out from under them as they notched an arrow and pointed their bow in Sylvain’s direction.

Byleth is still looking closely at Felix’s face and there is just a second where his expression becomes soft as he realizes what she’s trying to say. Then, just as quickly, his trademark scowl is back, and he turns it on her.

“It’s so I can save him, over and over,” he grumbles. “Thanks, Professor.”

At that, Byleth just smiles at him, which annoys him even further. 

“Felix,” she says, thoughtfully. “I wonder if Sylvain knows how lucky he is to have a friend like you.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Why don’t you?” Byleth replies, a look of innocence coming over her face that makes Felix want to draw his sword and cut her down right there and then.

Instead, he mutters, “I don’t have time for this,” and takes his leave.

As he is trying to focus on his training, however, he can’t get the day’s events - the battle, Sylvain’s utter stupidity, the exchange with the Professor - out of his head. He is fumbling through perfecting his Grounder strike, focusing hard on the blade and sweating ropes, when movement just out of the corner of his eye causes him to stumble and almost drop his sword.

“Why can’t I just be left alone today,” he complains, turning to see Ingrid standing behind him.

“Nice to see you too, Felix,” she responds, nonplussed. “And who says I’m here to see you? Maybe I want to get some training in as well.”

“Spar with me, then,” Felix says with a shrug.

“Fine,” Ingrid replies, walking over to the wall of weapons. She selects two training lances, and then without a word, tosses one to Felix. He quickly drops his sword and lunges for the lance, which Ingrid has masterfully thrown just out of his reach. As he drops to pick up the weapon, Ingrid takes two easy steps and points her lance at Felix’s throat.

“Unfair,” he mutters, reddening.

“You know full well that battle is never fair,” Ingrid counters, but she reaches down a hand to help him up. 

He shrugs her off and gets to his feet. “Again,” he says, lifting the wooden lance.

Felix is used to his sword, and the lance feels awkward in his hands, but he relishes the challenge. He adjusts his stance, moving his feet closer together, and gracefully slices his weapon through the air. Ingrid is incredibly skilled at dodging, however, and rather than parry, she easily sidesteps to avoid his attacks again and again. Then, just when Felix thinks he has memorized her patterns, she surprises him by stabbing her lance upwards, knocking Felix’s out of his hands, and once more, the tip of her weapon is against his exposed skin.

“You want to talk about what happened today?” she asks him, casually.

“I want to _ fight _,” Felix growls, and twists out from under her lance, springing to his feet like a cat. He grabs his weapon once more and charges at Ingrid, who whirls around and counters his blow.

“Tell you what,” she says, “If you win this one, I’ll leave it alone.”

“Easy,” Felix swings the lance and almost catches her shoulder, but she ducks out of the way and counters another time, and there is a satisfying _ crack _ as their weapons meet. Then he leaps backwards and slashes at her with one hand.

But Ingrid is quickly becoming a master at sparring with a lance - she’s already at a B+ level - and she pivots quickly, charges, and spears Felix right in the chest, knocking him backwards. He skitters to the ground, dropping his weapon, and hunches over, panting.

“You’re so much like him, you know that?” Ingrid says, almost affectionately, as she tosses her lance aside.

Felix scowls up at her. “Like who,” he says, between breaths.

“Your brother. Glenn,” Ingrid reaches out a hand again, and this time Felix takes it, reluctantly. She pulls him to his feet and gestures to the steps, where they both take a seat, and she hands him a canteen. 

Felix drinks deeply from the canteen, and wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The two sit in silence for a moment, and then Ingrid continues. 

“I remember when we were kids, and the time you came crying to Sylvain and I when Dimitri beat you at a spar for the first time. You were so blindsided by the fact that you weren’t, in fact, invincible,” Ingrid smiles at the memory. “What happened to that little boy that had so many emotions?”

Felix huffs. “Emotions are for the weak.” 

“So missing him makes me weak, then?” Ingrid challenges.

“No, not like...you’re a girl,” Felix says. “You’re supposed to be emotional.”

Ingrid’s eyes flash with anger. “And as I just proved - by beating you, by the way - I can be strong as well as honor my feelings.”

Felix glares at her, but says nothing, because as usual, she’s right. 

“We’ve been through a lot, you and I,” Ingrid continues. “We’ve both lost so much. But I’m trying to move on from the past, Felix. You, on the other hand, have built so many walls around you it’s like you’re still imprisoned there.”

He remains silent, taking another drink from the canteen, and looking everywhere except for at his longtime friend.

“Felix,” Ingrid says sternly, turning towards him. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what,” he responds, but he still doesn’t look at her.

She rolls her eyes. “When are you going to finally tell him?”

Felix stares at her, agape. “How did you…”

Ingrid chuckles. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know. Maybe you’ve fooled everyone else, but I’ve known you your entire life.”

Felix stares at the ground, his cheeks flushing. “Has he noticed?” he asks, softly.

Ingrid softens. “He’s been too busy trying to woo every woman that crosses his path to see what’s right in front of him,” she replies.

Felix just nods.

Ingrid sighs. “Listen, I know you’re afraid. You don’t want to risk losing someone else who is so important to you.”

Again, she’s right. Years ago, once he first found a name for that swooping feeling in his chest whenever Sylvain was near, he swore to himself he would never say a word. Because telling him might mean losing him. And Felix would rather live the rest of his life steeping in this desperate longing rather than risking never seeing Sylvain again.

Ingrid is still watching him, so he nods again, frowning.

“You know how much I love...loved Glenn,” she says. “And how his first love, maybe his only love, was being a knight in service to His Highness. I honestly don’t think he had any idea how I felt.”

Felix thinks back to their childhood, when he, Sylvain, Dimitri and Ingrid would spend almost every waking moment together at the palace in Fhirdiad, climbing trees or pretending to be knights in between their training. Glenn would join them on occasion, as he and Ingrid were betrothed, and it was expected of them to get to know one another. Felix remembered that Glenn was always gruff and a little dismissive of Ingrid, but that it never seemed to get her down. 

From time to time, though, Felix would would catch her looking at Glenn with such sadness on her face, and it never really made much sense to him. Now, as she sits next to him on the dusty steps of the Training Grounds, he recognizes the look on her face and it makes so much sense to him he actually gasps.

“Ingrid, I-” 

She waves a hand. “You have a chance now, one that I’ll never have again. Stop sabotaging your own happiness, or I swear to the Goddess I’m done with you. Both of you.” 

Before he can reply, Felix realizes something. “Did the Professor put you up to this?”

Ingrid feigns surprise. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Felix rolls his eyes at her. “You’ve always been a horrible liar.” He gets up to leave, but not before placing a hand on her shoulder, just briefly, and muttering, “Thanks,” and he is gone.

  
  


* * *

* * *

Meanwhile, Sylvain is sitting on a cot in the infirmary, being fussed over unnecessarily - he thinks - by Manuela. Normally, he would be relishing in the opportunity to flirt with her, but right now he can’t concentrate. 

_ Felix was there for me again, and I let him down, again _, he thinks, miserably.

After he refuses a Heal one more time, Manuela reluctantly lets Sylvain leave, making him promise to return the moment he isn’t feeling well. It is just about dinner time, but he isn’t hungry. Instead, he returns to the dormitories, noticing as he walks by that Felix’s door is closed. Once in his own room, he leaves his door open a crack - just in case - and lies on his bed without even bothering to remove his boots.

Normally, when he’s feeling this uneasy, he would go for a walk to the tea gardens, or maybe into town, and make eyes at just about every pretty thing he saw until one of them inevitably took the bait. Right now, though, Sylvain can’t get Felix out of his mind.

He thinks about Felix as a little boy, tagging innocently along with him as he went to the marketplace to try and flirt with the merchants’ daughters. Felix as an adolescent, stony-faced but uncomplaining as Sylvain lamented about his latest girl trouble. Felix in his room just a few weeks ago, looking in on him after Miklan’s unfortunate demise. 

_ What could he possibly still be getting out of this friendship? _ Sylvain honestly wouldn’t blame Felix if he were completely and utterly done with him. 

And yet. Sylvain thinks about Felix’s face from earlier that day, his eyes wild as Sylvain was knocked down by the Knight of Seiros. It was just a mock battle, he hadn’t even been hit that hard and Felix was acting as if -

_ Stupid. _ Sylvain curses himself. Of course Felix would be afraid of losing his friends in battle. After the Tragedy of Duscur, after Glenn’s death. It’s honestly a wonder that any of the Blue Lions are able to go into combat without completely falling to pieces. Ashe lost his parents. Ingrid lost a fiance. Dimitri...well, Dimitri lost just about everything, yet he still manages to hold himself together in battle as gracefully as ever.

But there is a gnawing feeling in his belly that is getting harder and harder to ignore.

He is so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice his door fly open and the angry figure that bursts in until Felix’s face is hovering above his. His dark is more disheveled than usual, dark strands falling from his usual bun and over his cheeks, and his brow is knotted in frustration. Sylvain, oddly enough, feels relieved to see him.

Felix is still glaring at him, saying nothing.

“There’s my hero,” Sylvain says, playfully. “Here to make sure I’m all healed up?”

“You’re an ass,” Felix curses, and Sylvain doesn’t disagree. “I was going to see if you were all right, but I think I’ll kill you instead.” He reaches for the dagger that’s always at his hip.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Sylvain sits up in his bed. “C’mon, can’t a man joke with his best friend?”

“Best friend?” Felix rests his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “Do you honestly think that we’re still best friends?”

It surprises Sylvain how much Felix’s words sting. “You don’t?” he replies, and his voice sounds wounded.

Felix lets his silence speak for him.

Sylvain hums. “Well, I do,” he says.

At that, Felix laughs dryly. “Funny way of showing it.”

This seems to Sylvain like the perfect moment to confess to Felix that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him, and he doesn’t know why. To throw himself at the man’s feet and apologize for everything, for his entire sorry existence. Instead, he does what he knows best, and tries to substitute levity for actual human emotion.

“Well, why do you think I’m always getting into trouble?” Sylvain shrugs. “I know you love saving me.”

Felix snorts. “Right, you’re a regular damsel in distress,”

“And you’ve always loved being the dashing knight,” Sylvain winks at him.

“I’m no knight,” Felix snaps. “That was my brother, remember?”

Sylvain nods, serious. “I know, Felix.”

They both stare at each other for a moment. 

“Listen, Felix, I-” Sylvain starts. Felix raises his eyebrows and gives him such a withering look that Sylvain loses all his resolve.

“Thank you,” is all he says, and he looks down at his lap.

Felix opens his mouth like he is going to say something, but then closes it and shakes his head. By the time Sylvain looks back up, he is gone.

“_ Fuck _ ,” Sylvain curses to himself, and falls back on the bed, hands over his face. The gnawing in his belly has fully upgraded to a dull ache that spreads through his chest and constricts his heart. _ What the hell is happening _, he wonders, as he stares at a dark spot on the ceiling. 

It’s going to be another sleepless night for Sylvain Jose Gautier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank Sothis for Mercedes, amirite? Our dumb boys finally realize how dumb they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the last chapter, not sure yet! I was going to draw it out longer, make the burn even slower, but I was honestly too impatient. I hope it isn't too obvious that I glossed over the details of the battle to get down to the **SmOOchINg** and if it is, well, I hope you don't really mind.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your feedback. Thanks again for stopping by and leaving kudos, y'all make a first-timer feel loved.

And so the days march forward, much as before. To everyone’s relief, the end of the Horsebow Moon brings Flayn’s return, but also marks the first appearance of the mysterious Death Knight, which leaves some of the students rattled, especially Mercedes, for reasons that aren’t immediately clear. The Professor makes a valiant effort to redirect everyone’s apprehension with efforts to prepare for the Battle of Eagle and Lion, which will take place at the month’s end.

Felix, for his part, is grateful for the excuse - not like he needs it - to spend as much time as possible at the Training Grounds. Despite his conversation with Ingrid, he doesn’t feel ready to approach Sylvain, and instead tries to keep his distance as much as possible. He finds himself going to train as soon as each day’s lessons conclude, and the sword in his hand and the ache in his muscles provide the only relief he can find to the fluttering of his heart deep within.

Sylvain, on the other hand, notices almost right away that Felix is trying to avoid him, which all but turns the ache in his chest into a four-alarm fire. He tries to catch Felix’s eye during lessons, which proves to be extremely difficult, even though they are seated next to one another. Catching him after the Professor’s lectures is also challenging, as Felix is always the first one up from his seat and out the door, before Sylvain can gather his thoughts, let alone his books.

Getting him alone at the dining hall is also impossible, as Felix has mostly been grabbing meals to go, and the times he does stay to eat, Sylvain always seems to run into one girl or another he had apparently made promises to. He tries to approximate his usual flirtatious behavior, but his heart is not in it, which naturally results in having a number of beverages thrown in his face.

After a few weeks of this dance, Sylvain resorts to the one thing he knows will work - and the one thing he is sure that Felix will hate the most. Still, he’s willing to risk it - he needs to see him, so badly that it has become his primary directive.

Felix is at the training grounds well past midnight. His arms feel like they’re made of lead and he has stripped down until he is completely shirtless, yet is still covered in sweat. But he can’t stop. When he sees a shock of red hair out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he is actually hallucinating, but then turns to find Sylvain is actually standing in front of him.

“I figured I’d find you here,” Sylvain says quietly. “It’s late, Fe.”

Felix scowls at the nickname, and shakes his head. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’m looking for you,” Sylvain says with a shrug. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Felix lets the sword fall from his hand into the dust. “I’m not,” he lies, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

Sylvain tries to ignore the ripple of muscle through Felix's chest, and focuses instead on his reason for being there. “You haven’t said a word to me since after the mock battle.” Felix meets Sylvain’s eyes, and they are accusatory, cutting into Felix like the blade of his own sword.

“I’ve been training,” Felix says, averting his eyes and hoping Sylvain won’t press it.

“Obviously. Do you want to win the house battle that badly? I had no idea you even cared.” Sylvain does.

“Don’t you? I’d imagine that the _girls_ love a winner.” Felix practically spits.

Sylvain grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sure they do. On the other hand, there’s also plenty of women who would love to console me if I’m all broken up over our loss.”

It was not the right thing to say, which is evident as Felix reaches to pick up his sword, and with two quick steps, points the tip of his blade just inches from Sylvain’s chest. “If you’re not here to train, then you’d better leave. Now,” he growls.

Now Sylvain just sighs. "Come on, Felix, can't we just...talk?"

"No. Now you have ten seconds to get out of here before I slice you apart,” Felix growls.

“Okay, Felix,” Sylvain says in a low voice, taking a few steps backwards. “I just thought-” he meets Felix’s eyes, and for just a moment, disappointment flashes in his eyes. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

Felix lowers his sword and watches Sylvain as he walks away. He swears under his breath, and then whirls around and drives his sword right through one of the training dummies, a strangled sob escaping his lips. He then slumps to the floor, head in his hands, wondering why a fool like him was even allowed to walk the earth.

* * *

* * *

As Sylvain staggers away from the Training Grounds, it is like a bucket of cold water has doused the flames that have been engulfing his insides, and he feels a lump of cold molten lava settle into his belly. Disoriented and dejected, he wanders the campus aimlessly until he finds himself standing outside the Cathedral.

_Maybe the Goddess will help_, he thinks, sadly, stepping inside.

It takes him a few moments to realize there is someone already there, seated in one of the front pews.

“Hello?” he calls softly, hoping not to disturb whoever it is.

“Is that Sylvain?” Mercedes replies.

“Mercedes?” Sylvain walks across the room and comes to a stop beside her. She is wrapped in a light-colored shawl and her large blue eyes are rimmed with red as if she has been crying.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her. He wonders if it has anything to do with the Death Knight.

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t slept much lately, actually,” her voice, usually light and musical, is low and weary. “What are _you_ doing here, Sylvain?”

Sylvain sighs and sinks beside her on the bench. “Ah, I don’t want to bother you. You seem like you have enough troubles of your own.”

“No, I’m happy to listen,” Mercedes says. “Please go on. Are you having girl problems again?”

Sylvain laughs dryly. “Close. Mercedes...have you ever been in love?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Mercedes says sadly. “I guess my love for the Goddess has always come first. Why, are you in love, Sylvain?”

“I think I am,” Sylvain says, and rests his head in his hands. “And I can’t seem to stop screwing it up.”

“Have you tried being honest with her?” Mercedes asks.

“Honesty is...not really my strong suit. Besides, I’m pretty sure...ah..._he_ hates me.”

Mercedes hums thoughtfully, and Sylvain feels a flood of gratitude towards her for not reacting dramatically to his reveal. There are a few beats of comfortable silence while Mercedes thinks.

“Maybe it’s not hate at all,” she says finally. “Maybe he’s hiding his true feelings as well.”

“You think?” Sylvain feels a bubble of hope float up into his chest.

Mercedes nods sagely. “Knowing Felix-”

Panic lances the bubble. Sylvain gulps. “You...how did you…”

Mercedes just giggles. “I didn’t, really. Just a guess. I know how close you two are and...it would be nice to see you together.”

Relief floods through Sylvain, and he reaches out to grab Mercedes’ hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before giving it a squeeze and letting it go. Mercedes giggles again, and the musical sound of her laughter is just as powerful as one of her Heal spells.

“I owe you one,” Sylvain says earnestly.

Mercedes shakes her head. “I’m just happy to help.” She then lets out an enormous yawn. “Actually, I feel much better myself. So thank you, Sylvain.”

She stands to leave, patting him gently on the shoulder, and then she is gone. Sylvain sits alone in the cathedral for a long time that night. He has a lot to think about.

* * *

* * *

In what seems like no time at all, it is the day of the battle of the Eagle and Lion. The three houses meet at dawn on Gronder Field. The early morning sunlight streams over the faces of the assembled students, and the Blue Lions are uncharacteristically quiet. Their nervous energy is palpable as Dimitri, looking regal as ever, strides to the front of the group to address them.

“Everyone, now is the time to show off the results of your dedicated training,” Dimitri begins. Horns begin to sound in the distance. “We fight today for honor!”

Sylvain and Felix’s eyes meet, and Sylvain gives him a grin, coupled with an almost imperceptible eyeroll. It captures what Felix is feeling so well that he can’t help but smile, small and shy, as he averts his eyes to the ground.

He curses himself for being so weak, but when he looks back up, Sylvain is still looking right at him, with a look of unmistakable affection. Even now, on the eve of battle, Felix’s chest fills with a quickly spreading warmth not unlike taking a deep drink from a goblet of strong Almyran wine.

Suddenly, he is no longer about to fight for the Blue Lions House, or Dimitri, or even himself, but for Sylvain. _Everything_ is for Sylvain. He draws his sword from its sheath and lets out an impassioned yell, and his classmates are quick to join in.

“You all should know, we are not about to go easy on you today,” Dimitri shouts out to their opponents, and a flag is hoisted high, signaling that the battle has begun.

Under Byleth’s direction, Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, Sylvain, and Mercedes quickly move on the offense, targeting the Golden Deer house, while she hangs behind with Ashe, Ingrid, and Annette to hold the defensive line against the Black Eagles.

It is a close battle. The other houses are strong, but they do not have the advantage of the Professor’s expert tactics skills. Weapons clash and soldiers fall. Classmates face each other with resolve in their eyes and in their attacks. Felix feels buoyant as he crosses the battlefield and swings his sword with a newfound determination. 

Soon enough, Seteth walks onto the field and declares the Blue Lions the winners. The students are jubilant, cheering and embracing, and Byleth watches them all with fond pride in her eyes.

Sylvain runs over to where Felix is standing and without a word, draws him up into his arms. Felix roars a protest, but the feeling of Sylvain’s strong embrace causes the words to die in his throat. Sylvain whirls Felix around once and sets him down gently, and their eyes lock. Felix’s gaze is intense, hungry, while Sylvain’s is soft and warm.

“Sylvain-” Felix starts, and takes a step toward him.

Sylvain slowly reaches out a hand and brushes a lock of Felix’s dark hair from his face. Felix swallows hard. Sylvain is searching his face with his warm brown eyes for a sign that he should continue. Felix is unable to speak, but his stare is full of such open longing that Sylvain simply nods slowly, and then smiles. He reaches out again, to trail his fingers gently down Felix’s trembling jaw, and Felix can no longer hold back.

He lunges at Sylvain, crushing their mouths together, and flings his arms around Sylvain’s neck with such force that he actually staggers backwards. Sylvain reaches around to softly caress the back of Felix’s neck. He wants more than anything to untie that stupid messy bun, but he figures there will be time for that later, and the thought makes him smile against Felix’s lips.

This is Felix’s first kiss, Sylvain knows, and so he takes the lead by using his tongue to gently part his lips. Felix thinks he might pass out as he feels Sylvain’s tongue in his mouth, hungry and searching. He reaches to touch it with his own, and the sensation is so new but so sublime and he can’t help but kiss Sylvain with everything he has.

Time becomes elastic and Felix doesn’t know how long the two men stay there, tangled together, until Sylvain tries to pull back with a slight but strangled groan that makes Felix lunge for him again, tangling his long fingers in Sylvain’s flame-red hair. He has been waiting for this moment for years and he knows now that he never, ever, wants to let Sylvain go.

They pull apart, eventually, and Felix’s eyes pop open to see Sylvain smiling at him so sincerely it damn near makes his heart burst.

“I so do not deserve you,” Sylvain says with a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

Felix smirks. “No, you don’t,” he agrees.

Sylvain just gathers Felix up in his arms again and squeezes, planting feather-light kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, and another quick kiss on his lips, before burying his face in Felix’s neck, drinking in the smell of his skin, his sweat, of _him_.

“I’m yours though, if you’ll have me,” he whispers in Felix’s ear, and Felix is _gone_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys TALK about their FEELINGS. Things get heavy before they get hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I'm not quite done with these two yet! Once again, thank you, THANK YOU for stopping by and giving my lil' fic a read! The next chapter is going to be SMUTTY, which I am both excited and kind of terrified to write.

There is a grand feast in the dining hall that night, meant to foster good sportsmanship between the houses. Some of the students, like Edelgard and Hubert, decline to attend, but most of the others are there, applauding and cheering for the Blue Lions, and the mood is jubilant and celebratory.

Felix and Sylvain enter the hall, fingers laced together, Sylvain looking proud and Felix sheepish, his cheeks pink and suddenly, the students have one more happy occasion to celebrate. Annette runs up to them immediately, giving them both a quick hug, and gushing her congratulations. Dorothea shouts, “About time, you two,” which makes Felix blush even more deeply. Even Dimitri tears his eyes away from the Professor for a moment to smile encouragingly in their direction.

Someone has snuck in a bottle of Dagdan spirits, and it’s Ashe who presses it into Sylvain’s hand after he shyly congratulates them. Sylvain takes a sip and coughs, and then passes it to Felix, who drinks from it with ease. Sylvain raises an eyebrow and regards Felix, who just shrugs, and Sylvain feels affection blooming inside his chest. He reaches for Felix, intending to gather him in an embrace, but he is stopped by Ingrid, who has come up behind him, and is clearing her throat softly.

The two men turn to her and she gives them a small smile. Before she can open her mouth, Sylvain rushes toward her and throws both arms around her without a word, and the startled look on her face makes Felix chuckle softly. Once Sylvain releases her, she takes a moment to gather her composure before speaking.

“I’m happy for you. I hope maybe this means I need to look after you both less but...I’m not holding my breath,” she says, and starts to walk away.

“Wait, Ingrid, I-” Felix starts, and Ingrid pauses to turn to him.

Ingrid smiles and waves him off. “Save your thanks until later. Mercedes is bringing out a cake, and I’m not missing out on it because of you.” But she grabs Felix’s hand and gives it a quick squeeze before turning away and heading to the dessert table.

Felix and Sylvain exchange a look.

“I get the feeling we owe her, bigtime,” Sylvain says, scratching the back of his head.

Felix nods. “There are...probably a few people who deserve our gratitude,” he says, catching Byleth’s eye.

Byleth inclines her head before turning away, and Sylvain is gaping at Felix. “You are a man of mystery, aren’t you,” he says, awed.

“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” Felix says, grabbing his hand once again. 

Later that evening, Sylvain has pinched what remains of the bottle of liquor, and brings it down to the fishing pond, where he and Felix sit on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side. Their fingers are lazily entwined, and they pass the bottle back and forth in comfortable silence. Between the alcohol and Felix’s hand in his, Sylvain feels like he is floating several inches above the earth. 

He looks over at Felix, studying his profile. The setting sun is illuminating Felix’s hair, and it has turned a stunning shade of indigo. His usually pale skin is reflecting the golden sunlight and he is just..._ glowing _. It renders Sylvain uncharacteristically speechless for a few moments as his heart swoops and flutters.

Felix takes a drink from the bottle, and a drop of liquor remains on his mouth. Sylvain can’t help but reach over and wipe it away, slowly dragging his thumb across Felix’s lower lip. They lock eyes and Felix shivers visibly, which encourages Sylvain, and he reaches up to graze his fingers over Felix’s cheekbones, tugging on his lip softly. The two lock eyes, and Sylvain moves toward Felix, intending to devour him. 

At that moment, Felix blurts out, “When did you know?” 

Sylvain pulls back and searches Felix’s face for a moment. He finally replies, and his voice is low. “Honestly, it was...after Miklan died, that I realized...I think I’ve always been in love with you,” 

Felix inhales sharply, and his grip on Sylvain’s hand tightens.

“My brother - my tormentor, my blood, my past...was gone, but all I could think about was you, Felix,” Sylvain continues, rubbing his thumb over the back of Felix’s hand. “You’ve been there for me, unquestionably, since we were kids. Always there, no matter what I did. Or didn’t do, rather.” 

Felix is silent, but he stares at Sylvain, his amber eyes wide. 

“I didn’t...I couldn’t...Goddess, Felix. I kept picturing Glenn’s funeral, when I was too busy hitting on girls to be there for you.”

Felix remembers. 

A room full of nobles, some he knew, many he barely recognized, murmuring their condolences and praising Glenn for his bravery. Felix stood between his father, Rodrigue, and Dimitri, almost the entire day, and Felix felt like crawling out of his skin. Dimitri, once his best friend, _ the boar prince _, he began to think of him then. It was unbearable to listen to him try and put on airs as the future king was expected to do, while knowing the truth of the events that transpired at the Tragedy of Duscur. Ingrid was in attendance that day as well, but she was grieving deeply, and excused herself often, returning with red eyes. 

All that day, Felix searched for his best friend, but only caught glimpses of him as he made his way around the room, chatting with attendees, mostly girls. At one point, he saw Sylvain pull a flower from one of the many arrangements brought by guests and handing it to a small, brunette girl, who giggled as she took it from him. 

At that moment, Felix realized that he was no longer the most important thing to Sylvain, and that everything he had known was about to change. It was also the moment when he realized he needed to lock his feelings for Sylvain deep within himself, where they would be safe.

As he looks at Sylvain now, who is staring back at him with an expression of such profound regret, Felix wonders if maybe things were about to change once again - for the better. For both of them.

He simply nods, and says, “Yes. I remember.”

“And yet, after that day...you were still there. I couldn’t figure out why. Until...I did. That’s when I realized that I felt the same way.” Sylvain finishes his thought and swallows hard. 

There are a few moments of silence, and Sylvain’s heart is drumming against his ribs, and his head is swimming, both from the alcohol and the waves of emotion that are threatening to drag him under.

“Please, say something. Do you still…” Sylvain’s tone is filled with desperation.

Felix meets his eyes. “Yes,” he says simply. 

Sylvain sighs in relief, and reaches out to take Felix’s golden face in his hands, kissing him tenderly, trying to pour as much love as he can into Felix’s mouth. This time, it is Felix who advances with his tongue, and it is so soft and warm, so hesitant and sweet, that Sylvain thinks he might die, right there and then. He can’t help but respond in turn, and their tongues are not unlike bodies on the battlefield, lunging at one another with fervor, turning, dipping, practically _ dancing _ together. 

Sylvain grabs at Felix’s hips, and pulls him onto his lap. Felix moves his legs so that he is straddling Sylvain’s lap, and wraps his arms around Sylvain’s neck, and Sylvain takes the opportunity to run his hands over Felix’s strong thighs. In the process, the bottle of alcohol is knocked into the pond, but neither of the men notices or cares, as they melt into one another’s bodies. 

They pull apart again, and Felix rests his forehead against Sylvain’s, his hands roaming freely through his fiery locks. They breathe in tandem for a few moments, and then Felix pulls back to regard Sylvain.

“So...what now?” he asks quietly, biting his lower lip.

Sylvain grins again, and gives Felix a big wink. “How does my room sound, baby?”

“That’s...not what I meant,” Felix replies, casting his eyes downward.

Sylvain’s grin falls. “Oh. Right.”

There is a beat, and Felix makes a move to climb off Sylvain’s lap, but Sylvain grabs his arm, more roughly than he intended to. Felix’s eyes darken as he jerks his arm away, then scrambles to his feet. Sylvain jumps up as well, but he is more than buzzed, not to mention that the blood in his head is currently...elsewhere, and he stumbles, falling hard onto his knees. He looks pleadingly up at Felix, who makes no effort to help him up.

“I should have known,” Felix says, looking down at Sylvain’s crumpled form. “This was a mistake.” The tenderness in his voice is gone, and he turns and starts walking down the dock, back towards the monastery.

“Felix!” Sylvain calls, struggling to his feet, and taking off after him. Once he catches up, he reaches to catch Felix’s elbow, but Felix shakes him off. “Please,” Sylvain begs. “Just...stop.”

Felix whirls to face him. “How many _ girls _ have you used those lines on?” he spits. 

“I haven’t - what? No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Sylvain sputters. 

“I bet,” Felix turns to leave.

Sylvain reaches out again, this time grabbing both of Felix’s arms and tugging. Felix squirms, but Sylvain just grips tighter.

“Will you just listen to me? Goddess, why must you always be so combative, Fe?” Sylvain is digging into his arms so hard that there will certainly be bruises later.

“Just let me go,” Felix grunts as he tries to twist out of Sylvain’s grasp.

With one quick movement, Sylvain sweeps Felix’s legs out from under him and pins him to the ground with both his hands. For emphasis, he lifts up a knee and presses it into Felix’s chest. Felix’s face has gone red as he attempts to thrash his way out of the hold, but Sylvain being the bigger of the two men is to his advantage in this moment, and he digs his knee a little harder into Felix’s chest. His other knee is planted on the ground, between Felix’s legs, and despite the current predicament, Sylvain can’t help but think about how close it is to his crotch. 

“Let me...go..._ asshole _,” Felix is continuing to struggle.

“_Felix _ ,” Sylvain tightens his grip on the smaller man’s wrists. “_Listen to me _, damn it.”

Felix glowers at him, and after a few moments, allows himself to go slack in Sylvain’s grasp.

“You’re not just some one-night stand to me, Felix, although I can understand why you might think that. My track record isn’t exactly stellar, I’ll be the first to admit that,” Sylvain explains.

Felix barks out a laugh. “You’re actually the last.”

Sylvain glares at him. “Can I speak?”

Felix screws up his mouth, but remains silent. Sylvain removes the knee from Felix’s chest, but keeps holding on to his wrists, although he loosens his grip just a little.

Sylvain sighs loudly. “Felix, you’re...I’ve never felt like this about _ anyone _. I don’t want you to be just a fling, a one-night stand. I mean...I want to take you to bed. Like, immediately. But I plan on being there when you wake up in the morning. And all the mornings after that, so long as you’ll have me.”

He releases one of Felix’s wrists and lifts his hand to his face. Felix is watching him, warily, but when Sylvain gently cups his cheek, he leans into the other’s hand, ever so slightly.

“I know you don’t owe me anything. In fact, it’s the other way around. I want to make it up to you, Fe,” Sylvain smiles down at him. “But I need you to give me a chance, however much I might not deserve one.”

Felix huffs softly, but he takes his free hand and places it on top of Sylvain’s with a gentle caress of his thumb.

“Okay,” he mutters, after a moment. 

“Okay?” Sylvain laughs, relieved.

Felix gives him a tiny smirk. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Sylvain leans down to seek his forgiveness in Felix’s lips, and Felix responds by hooking his free arm around Sylvain’s neck and tugging him down. Their mouths crash together with an urgency, a hunger that is bigger than just the two of them, bigger than Garreg Mach, bigger than Fódlan itself. 

They pull apart suddenly, breathless. Felix gazes up at Sylvain through his long, dark, eyelashes, and pants, “Tell me you love me again.” 

Sylvain grins so broadly he feels like his face will crack wide open. He brings both his hands to Felix’s face once more.

“Felix,” Sylvain says. “I love you. With everything I have, everything that I am.”

“I...I love you, too,” Felix whispers, and Sylvain dives forward to tangle their lips together once again. 

Sylvain knows this is a tenuous moment, but he can’t help lifting the knee that is planted on the ground between Felix’s legs and gently moves it higher, higher, until it gently brushes against Felix, and even this tiny amount of friction sends a jolt through both of their bodies, not unlike someone has cast a Thunder spell. Emboldened, Sylvain moves just a fraction closer until he has slotted his knee right between Felix’s thighs, and the motion causes Felix to buck up with his hips and moan softly into Sylvain’s mouth.

Any restraint that Sylvain has been exercising is all but gone, and he brings his hands to the back of Felix’s head, gently lifting it toward him, and tugs Felix’s hair loose from its usual knot, tangling his fingers into its silky length. He pulls his face away, and much to his delight, Felix follows him with his mouth. Instead, Sylvain slips his fingers into that soft, wet, heat, and moves his own mouth down Felix’s jaw, down the length of his neck, and searches with his tongue until he finds the spot that makes Felix cry out loud.

Sylvain pulls back again, and Felix’s eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed, his lips around Sylvain’s fingers, and seeing his old friend in such a state of undoing from barely touching him at all sends the bolt of lightning in his spine cascading out into every nerve in his body. 

“I don’t want to ask you to do anything you’re not ready to,” Sylvain breathes, and Felix’s eyes snap open. “But I really, really want to take you back to my room right now.”

Felix is silent for a beat, breathing heavily. Finally he responds with, “I suppose it’s probably better than our first time being on the ground outside the dining hall.”

“Is that a yes?” Sylvain asks, color rising in his cheeks.

Felix flushes deeply. “Yes,” he murmurs, holding Sylvain’s gaze.

Sylvain is to his feet almost immediately, and he reaches out a hand to help Felix up.


End file.
